


Hotel Ceiling

by IncompleteWithoutLife



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Desperate Clarke, Drama, F/F, Mentioned Wells Jaha ( More than one occasion ), Mystery, Past Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:35:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncompleteWithoutLife/pseuds/IncompleteWithoutLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fear: It has a way—It's lethal. It's the dangers of the mind that has manipulated destiny to create and embed unrealistic imagery and drill them into your own belief. Lurking beneath the comfort and safety until it's chance to be able to glare upon you full force.</p><p>[Undergoing revising]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotel Ceiling

_"48 hours. It has been well over the expected time span in which authorities had first thought to be suicide. 48 hours since Seattle citizens were shaken with the spur of the leaked crime scene going viral. 48 hours since 'Lexa Woods' who had been filed as a missing person until her car was found with farewell a note stained with blood. The investigation has come under wraps and unfolds with the chief of Polis county who has pronounced the young twenty-two year old dead,"_

Nimble fingers ghost over the television remote. The various color schemes of the fleeting images skirting across her face breaths life onto her deathly pale cheeks. Her hands fumble with the remote in her hands and she tries desperately to click the button that will shut down the raging pain seeping from her chest — She denies —Yet even with the familiar carefree smile taunting her on the screen, she knows that the searing pain would never vanish. Not until the woman sending her an encouraging grin through the television returns to her, because she knows. Has the sense that they are wrong. That this is a cruel sick prank that life is pulling on her. Anytime now their should be a brunette walking through the front door wearing an apology, and guilt on her firm features. Anytime now their should be forest irises boring into hers as a banquet of her favorite flowers are being thrust into her hands—

_"Reports are in. Authorities have now pronounced 'Lexa Woods' dead. Death by suicide."_

The courage is fueled by the desperate attempts of evading any and all doubt that the public is sickly trying to instill in her. Her finger pulls the trigger to her own demise.

_"On Fox News tonight we bring the results to the short-term investigation of 'Lexa Woods' The young twenty-two year old deemed dead by suicide. Now—"_

She will not become a victim to public scrutiny of the preying eyes, the pitiful glances, mourning stares of strangers who knew nothing of what the current turmoil her everything was doing to lead her into destruction. They will not break her. This would blow over...

_"Authorities have reported the death of 'Lexa Woods—"_

They will not reach her. Not now, not ever.

_"Authorities are under the critical eyes of thousands. Many are debating if the fact that this crime has taken a hit with it's eerie mystery of why their is a genuine farewell note identified to be handwritten by the young woman with her blood staining its sealed envelope was found in her crashed vehicle twenty miles away from the Tondc and Polos border. It all leans to suicide. Yet not one proof has been given to the public that she has committed death. A trail of her blood leading into the woods boarding the roads and a dead end leading to a pool of her blood. All the while a piece of her clothing she was confirmed to be wearing the day of her disappearance was found near the scene. They have searched the wooded area multiple times, with hundreds of volunteers helping and covered lots of ground only to find nothing. Yet the even more chilling fact is a question wondered by many. Where is her body? There...Has been no body found—"_

A question she has haunted herself with thousands of times: The warmth of the liquid trailing down her cheek is a sign. Another scorching tear sweeping down her other cheek—It's final. The, sarcasm. The stares smirks, grins, thrown her way. They will forever be embedded into her memory—Those bright green eyes—She shivers with the burning memory. 

_...._

Her eyes are forced shut due to the stream of light fleeting across her face. Her mind cannot fathom as to why the curtains are no longer filtering the sun. She is positive she had shut them the night before. The wince of the burning light deters her from attempting to further her quest to find the object of the source. With a low whine of protest she does her best to quickly throw the covers over her head. Forcing her eyes closed, internally praying that sleep with overtake her once again, she waits. Her mind has not yet caught up with her, but she manages to hear the clatter of pans and pots. Taking one more moment of desperation for darkness to blind her sight, she sighs. Her attention snaps to the chill she feels at her feet, but her conscious has taken over and has her toes shying into the warmth of the covers. Her mind is slow, but she manages to observe her predicament.

Eyes narrowing with suspicion she groans when the deathly quite footsteps reach her ears. She's grateful for the silence, never would she have been able to detect the footfall if it weren't for the abnormal silence of the morning. The feet stop and she can picture the brunette leaning against the door frame watching her. It brings a surge of warmth and it spreads like wildfire when the silence stretches for a long period. She doesn't think she can handle the emotions at such an early stage, but her body responds in objection. The smile forming on her lips could be defined as cheeky like, but she doesn't care. She craves to see the sight awaiting her gaze.

"I can feel you staring. Stop it. It's creepy."

There's a laughter echoing throughout the apartment; It's warm, slightly raspy, and has an incredible amount of life. One her favorite sounds in the world and it fills her with new found energy. Her smile turns into a grin when she feels the weight of the bed shift, and not a moment later she has fallen victim to a familiar body weight on her. Grunting with playfulness she tries to hold a firm scowl when the covers are ripped off of her and green eyes bore into her. Anticipation is a constant reminder that the bright forest green eyes never cease to create a level of anxiety within her. She finds herself clear of any glare when the brutal grin battles away her tad bit of anger at the scheming twenty year old.

"Lexa get off. Your weight is unbearable." The snort she receives oddly enough makes her swoon.

"That is entire muscle you are getting smothered by. If anything you should be honored that this rock of steel is on top of you."

Lexa wraps her arms around Clarke to further prove a point. Her throat emits a sound so pure and ecstatic. A sound only the girl could ever bring forth. The flash of joy in the green eyes is enough of an agreement as she could possibly get. With futile attempts to push away the brunette who simply hums in satisfaction when the contact stays intact. Clarke halts her hands and rolls playfully when a pair of lips pamper her face. A wave of excitement washes over her, and the searing heat left in a trail from the pair of lips nearly has her gasping for the cool air she felt earlier. Her heartbeat picks up speed with every kiss. She knows that the rate it is beating is highly unhealthy, but she devours the feeling.

"Oh my gosh will you stop it. Come on your slobbering all over me." Her playful disdain is met with an abrupt gasp.

"But I just—I. Just. Love. You. So. Much. Clarke."

Lexa continues leaving a trail of fire. There's silence when Lexa connects their lips. Her lungs have been deflated, and is hastily disagreeing with the lack of air filtering through her system. She ignores the burning need of oxygen, because while Lexa is able to steal her breath away, she will not succumb to her needs. It's beautiful—What they have together. Clarke knows this, can feel it when their lips move in synchronization, like they have been familiar with the supply lips of the other. Like they form the perfect puzzle when their mouths find each other. It's unrealistic. That she could even feel such a burst of emotions with one kiss; frightening to the point where she feels so absurdly comfortable with the flame ignited in the pit of her stomach.

She wants to believes that if her heart where to stop beating due to ferocity in the quickness it would be a valid death. Even as going to further accept the fate of it where ever to happen. At leas, at least she would be able to enjoy a peaceful death. She whines in protest when the lips slowly retract. Yet when her eyes flutter open to meet the blown black pupils surrounded by a green—A color so demanding, so beautiful because of it's nature provided comparison, she smiles: This is something she is still not yet accustomed to.

Even after four years she finds the color of green she is currently staring into so unique. That the color of Lexa's eyes are a mixture of the earth and stars; filled with one thing she has yet to identify, hope, wonder, and security. It has her craving, desperately needing to stare into forever. Clarke knows that she could search the depths of green until the end of time, and still find the color fascinating. On another fact: A selfish one. Clarke has the knowledge that she can get lost in the pure love and devotion in which Lexa stares at her with. Like she would willingly fight through the depths of hell in order to simply take one more glimpse at Clarke.

"I made you breakfast. It's getting cold, and I know you hate eating cold pancakes."

A true fact: — Neither of them move — Instead they wait. For what? Nothing in particular, but they've done this before. Before they were a couple, the first time sky blue irises met the forest, when they couldn't stand being in the same room as one another, when their relationship had backtracked only to end in a fulfilling conclusion, to the time they had first spoken the words ( The one that had been a newfound wound for the both of them, and a refreshing beginning. )It's full of confusion; They're both full of confused questions, searching for something that they can never actually identify, chasing after something that they could never be caught.

It's all the same. Finding the one thing you were scavenging for, only to be led into a series of unsolvable answers. The anticipation of the evasive quest is destroying them both and mending their hearts all the same. They would never tire of starting an investigation to solve the puzzle. Lexa believes if they ever had found whatever they were looking for would demolish their relationship, would steal the fascination of the other. Clarke...She understands that it is peace, that while they will find a blissful end, they would also find the destructive effects of them striking gold on what is forbidden. They both had realized that it was a damned quest. One that should never be explored, and it's exactly why they would break the stare with a final glance.

"You're naked."

Clarke doesn't choke down the resounding amusement, neither does she bite down the enormous grin falling onto her lips.

"I'm aware."

She's biting her lip, and she doesn't fail to miss the green eyes flicking to glance at the action. Clarke is silent as the brunette props herself into her elbows and continues to stare at her with a fond smile. She is still wordless when the green eyed girl pushes off of the bed and the room is filled with the latter of feet hitting the ground only to stop a few feet away. Blue eyes widen in surprise when a bra is thrown into her face and rest limp on her head, dangling into her sight. Instead of questioning the girl, with a huff she slides on the piece of clothing with ease. When she hears the audible sigh of relief when the final click of the connected pieces she snaps her attention to the brunette purposely staring at her chest. She rolls her eyes when she speaks the brunettes name and doesn't receive anything other than a stare full of obvious appreciation for her cup size.

"Oh I just knew you were a peeping pervert."

Lexa doesn't even have the decency to blush when she is called out, doesn't even look away from the now prominent chest due to the flattering bra. She only rakes her eyes deliberately up the blondes form to meet an accusing eyebrow and mischievous blue eyes and only because Clarke had covered her fascination with the bed sheets. She smirks when Clarke takes in her boy shorts and loose tank top she had thrown on in a haste to make the sleeping blonde breakfast. It's not much, but she can distinguish the now dark blue eyes and pick apart 'the' smile. The one where Clarke is a second away from gushing about how adorable — Lexa refuses to accept the term — She is.

"I apologize your majesty. How rude of me to intrude on your privacy without having the decency to even spare a glance away from your enchanting figure." 

"I'm sure you can make up for the treachery by providing me my own form of live entertainment."

Lexa frowns and pretends to be mulling over the innuendo. Raising an eyebrow of confusion as the brunette starts to gently sway her hips. Clarke has to mentally battle the instinct to double over in laughter at the seduction fail, because there are two facts she knows. **1:** ( Lexa is a terrible dancer ) **2:** ( The first fact may be true, but the brunette actually has a sense of rhythm ) Maybe it's because of the way she notices how awkward and comfortable the lanky girl is with dancing, but she doesn't care. She doesn't care, and it has much to do with the puckered lips, and creased eyebrows blowing her a weird mixture of airborne kisses. She laughs.

Her stomach bubbling with mirth only doubles when she sees the girl lightly tugging on the tank top. Instead of one peaceful ease Lexa decides to tug the shirt up few inches to match her moving hips, and Clarke swears her cheeks have to be bright red with amusement. In one last wave Lexa pulls off the top and continues to sway her waist as she swings the shirt in front of her. Clarke has no way of noticing the brunette wiggling her way in her direction until the shirt is flung and smears her vision and she hears a burst of laughter followed by a muffled padding of her running off. Clarke grins tossing the shirt in hopes of it reaching the fleeing girl.

"I love you asshole!"

"I love you too Clarke!"

And as she falls back into the mattress she cannot help but wonder when she had gotten to be able to enjoy such a beautiful life.

_**[ Two days before the disappearance. ]** _

_...._

The television shuts down with a resounding crack; A bursting echo ringing in her ears. The instant silence is suffocation as the old recording of any news channel she could find went mute with no chance of being seen by her eyes again. Frustration that she cannot fathom when her life had become such a tragedy. One in which was the main topic of nearly every human being in the states. One in which has her desperately seeking the heavy breath she can release once this has gone through...Once Lexa returns to her. Once she has her life within her grasp.


End file.
